JOiE DE ViVRE: So this is Wonderland
by ms.x
Summary: He said it goes well with the color of my hair. He said it’s a harmonic recipe of starlight and the darkness... Sophie had become so proverbial with tears that she could no longer feel their perilous journey down her beautifully defined features.
1. 001 To Whom It May Concern

**JOIE DE VIVRE:** So this is _W_onderland.

**Disclaimer:** I do _not_ own the piece Howl's Moving Castle. I wish I own Howl though ;D

Memo from the author This is my first fanfic. I would be extremely happy if you guys would **R&R** and give me some pointers :D Thank you for taking the time to read my humble little story, muah & enjoy!

Now let's enter Howl's moving castle, with a new perspective.

**CHAPITRE ONE**

-To Whom It May Concern-

_"Howl, I had the longest few weeks of my life. With every cloud that went past over my head, I sent my wishes and love along to you. I want you to know that every second of each of my days had been spent wishing on the return of your elongated journey. Howl, I love you. Please remember your promise of a safe return."_

She closed her eyes and yet again placed another wish upon the clouds. She watched it soar. She watched as the cloud broke apart, and flew in separate ways. A drop of water slipped quietly down her cheeks and reached the curve of her delicate mouth. The salty taste walloped her back to reality.

_A tear?_

Sophie had become so proverbial with them that she could no longer feel their perilous journey down her beautifully defined features. She closed her eyes yet again and felt the acidic sense of a flock of tears gather and forcefully caged in behind her eyelids.

She let them rain.

_I'm crying again? I promised I wouldn't. Never again..._

In front of her sat a vase of black roses.

_He said it goes well with the color of my hair. He said it's a harmonic recipe of starlight and the darkness._

From the petal of one rose slid down a tiny trickle of dew. The rose cried with Sophie.

For months now, the roses were the only things capable of accompanying Sophie and sharing her thoughts. The roses withered into sleep when Sophie was lost in her dreams at night. The roses swayed as Sophie occupied herself with thoughts of Howl. The roses cried with her when she lost faith. But the roses never bloomed flatteringly, because Sophie was never happy.


	2. 002 Porcelain Doll For Sale

**Memo:** Hehe, my last chapter was really, really short. But this one is longer…And hopefully better ;) R&R, please? Ooh, and thanks to those who reviewed for my previous chapter. And thank you for the suggestions. I will be writing from each main character's point of view as the story progresses. :) I'll continue writing…_IF YOU REVIEW_! (:

**CHAPiTRE TWO**

**-Porcelain Doll For Sale-**

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**"Sophie, I know how much you mean to me."**

"_I'm sorry I doubted you._"

**"It doesn't matter. I know that half of which you say never touched your heart."**

"_You think so, Howl?_"

**"I won't let you wait long. Have faith in me. And Sophie…"**

"_Yes?_"

**"I love you."**

" _I … I know."_

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_Half of which I've said never touched my heart? Does that mean he hasn't believed in half of what I've said?_

**I trust that she is devoted, but --**

_I didn't say I love him. I didn't say I'd wait for him. But he must've known how I felt, right? It shouldn't be because that --_

**She didn't say she loves me. Does that mean she probably won't wait for me?**

- - -

'Tis the menacing trait of misunderstanding.

_And he left without one final look across his shoulder._

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**- To Where He Searches For His Love -**

Summer quickly gave its way to autumn. The rustle of leaves on trees during windswept summer days was replaced with the generous crackle of sudden movement of feet on piles of diluted, yet golden leaves. The purified river of Anatine soon bloated herself with unwanted visitors from nearby trees.

In the far distance, the crackle of leaves changed from a munificent crackle to a hurried shuffle as a pair of black boots scattered across them. Panting, an alluring young man hurried himself towards the direction of the famous town of Anatine. His breathlessness was in harmony with the quick rustling of dry leaves. The man's luxurious blond pants with a touch of red lining blended in with the scenery surrounding him. It took him the entire morning to comprehend in which outfit to present himself with today. Which, of course, was also why he was late for a rendezvous. His hair was typically black as a raven, and touched his shoulders with gentle tickles.

_How you look visually to another being is vital._ That was his theory.

Passing through the narrow streets of the town, a familiar smell of freshly baked goods caught his nose. Instinctively, he turned to his right and was greeted with a nice mack on his head by a wooden sign.

_Ahh... Mr. Gavin's Bakery._

He was about to continue his journey to the Church of Anatine when, not another pleasant smell, but a gracious object caught hs eye.

A beautifully crafted Porcelain doll erected behind a large window. The realistic features of the doll made him stand on his ground. The Blonde hair was most attractive. It reminded him of his previously famous hair colour. Its eyes were abnormally large and blue, but it looked striking while accompanied by the sunshine reflected through the glass window.

He smiled with great affection.

_Looks exactly like a special someone. It looks ... unerringly like her._

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**- At Where Her Love Cultivates -**

The church bell rang its habitual sacred _dong_, signaling the arrival of two o'clock in the afternoon. The church building is exceptionally vast in height. In fact, the Church of Anatine is where worshippers from around the globe congregate and pray.

This is also where Elise lives.

Elise was not born an orphan. Until the age of three, she lived in agreement with her brother and her mother, Lynhea. Elise' parents were divorced. Thus, Lynhea looped herself constantly of the troubles in raising Elise and her bother alone. Egoistically, Lynhea untied her worries of sacrificing her liveliness by dropping Elise on the steps of the Anatine Church. That night, Lynhea left the naïve girl in the hands of her friend, Sister Carrene, and disappeared into the darkness on which the moon did not have compassion upon with her son.

Elise, now at the mature age of seventeen, escaped from her worries and sadness. Elise was more gorgeous than any of the ladies whom resided in Anatine. She often asked Sister Carrene about how her mother looked, to which Sister Carrene always replied with warm smile.

She said, " You look fairly different from your mother. She had eyes that bent like the moon when she smiled. Her features are well-placed but no different from anyone else. But your eyes, Elise, your eyes are large and strangely filled with liveliness. It's as if such events had no affect on you…" She would trail off but later smile and continue. " Your mother's hair was of a dark hazel, with the diminutive appearance of yellow. Your hair is especially golden with absolutely no mixture. But you have the exact same nature of lips as Lynhea – Small yet placed just the right distance from your nose. Even without composition, you look like the perfect porcelain doll."

Elise would laugh.

_Porcelain dolls look rather frightening at night._

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**Memo:** Okay, I have to stop here at this chapter. But I'll get to the puzzle piece that puts this whole story together XD. It might not make enough sense to some people to understand what I have here right now, but hopefully most are… comprehensive of what I'm trying to say :P Please R&R!


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